


Touch Me There

by mrs_d



Series: MCU Kink Bingo [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Butt Pinching, First Time, M/M, MCU Kink Bingo, Masturbation, Mention of Steve/OMC & Steve/Peggy, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, mild internal kinkshaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-27 08:15:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15020426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_d/pseuds/mrs_d
Summary: Sam’s grip on his ass tightens, his fingers closing sharp and sudden in what is definitely a pinch. Steve can’t wait.





	Touch Me There

**Author's Note:**

> For the "butt pinching" square on my card. Another title inspired by a Rihanna song (Rude Boy).

Until today, Steve has never admitted it out loud. 

It started — well, he isn’t quite sure when it started, but the first time he became consciously aware of it was back in ’39, when he was 21 and reckless, fooling around with a guy Bucky knew from around. Walt, his name was. They didn’t love each other — Walt was married to a woman, and Steve was so convinced he wouldn’t make it through the next hard winter that he wasn’t looking to get attached. They were good to each other, though, and Walt always left him a few coins, sometimes even a dollar bill, on his way out the door.

Steve never felt shamed by that — money was money, and it was hard to come by more often than not — but his skin still gets warm and red when he thinks about that last day when Walt was fucking him up against the wall of his and Bucky’s apartment.

Walt held Steve by the hips the way he always did, but then one hand disappeared from his waist and landed on his ass — hard and firm, Walt’s strong fingers spread over Steve’s skin. Steve’s eyes rolled back in his head, it felt so good, and when Walt grabbed a bit of it, squeezed it in what was distinctly a pinch, Steve came so hard he could feel his weak heart struggling to keep up.

He didn’t see Walt again after that — the war had him signing up with the reserve the way a lot of guys did, and years later Steve found out he’d been killed in action in the Pacific in ’44. But Steve thought about him a lot, especially after the serum put more meat on his bones.

He was grateful he was alone the first time he tried on the uniform Senator Brandt gave him, because the tight cradle of fabric was too much like Walt’s touch, and he was hard so fast he was light-headed, which he didn’t even think was possible in his new body. He hesitated, then checked to make sure the door was locked. It was, so he undid the front of his pants and reached back experimentally, closing his eyes. He squeezed and caressed, even pinched himself through the thick fabric, using his other hand to work his cock until it was clear he had to get out of the uniform before he stained it.

Needless to say, he was grateful when Howard made him new pants.

But new pants or not, his ass stayed sensitive, and it seemed like almost anything could set him off. One time, as a joke, Gabe nudged his ass with the butt of his gun, and Steve had to march the next mile and a half with a hard-on that wouldn’t go away no matter how much he thought about tactics.

That night, when everyone was asleep except Dugan, who was keeping watch far enough away that he wouldn’t hear, Steve gave into temptation and stuck his hand inside his pants. Walt crossed his mind, as he often did at times like these, but then he thought about Peggy. His mouth fell open as he remembered the last time he’d seen her handle a rifle, how strong and dexterous her hands were, how her nails were long enough to be feminine but also dangerous. He pictured them painted the red of her lipstick. He imagined her beneath him, her hands small but firm on his ass, driving him into her, squeezing, pinching. Her touch would be different from Walt’s, sharper, those fingernails etching his skin. Maybe she would even leave a mark, a bruise to remind him he was hers.

He was careful to keep quiet as he came on that image, but he still blushed the next morning when Dugan met his eye. It felt like he knew, not just that Steve had jerked off in the middle of the night — there was an unspoken rule about ignoring things like that — but also what Steve was thinking about when it happened.

And then came the ice, and the Chitauri, and the move to DC to get a fresh start and be closer to Peggy, who still had some of her old strength when she gripped his hands. And after that came the helicarriers, and HYDRA, and Bucky, alive and trying to kill him, and  _Sam._

Fighting beside Sam, flirting with Sam, having dinner with Sam, sleeping a few feet away from Sam in crummy motel rooms. Watching him handle his wings, his guns, Steve’s shield when Steve needs him to. Wondering what those hands would feel like on him, wondering what he tastes like, and finally throwing caution to the winds and leaning in to find out — it’s all led him to this moment, this motel room, this kiss and this touch that’s surprising but also familiar.

Now he’s face down in Sam’s lap, licking into the open fly of his jeans, his face burning with desire and shame, begging without words for Sam to let him suck his cock — did guys still do that? would Sam like it? — until Sam answers his question and reaches down to free his erection. Steve moans gratefully as he takes it into his mouth, barely aware of Sam shifting against the headboard. Sam reaches around to tug the base of Steve’s shirt up, shove the back of his pants down. Then his hands are working their way in under the fabric, his blunt nails digging into the sensitive skin there, finding and squeezing the swell of his ass, and Steve closes his eyes, lets himself shiver with another person’s touch for the first time in almost a century.

“You like that,” Sam says, and it isn’t a question. Steve feels himself get even hotter, redder.

Sam’s hands drift back up, and he nudges Steve’s chin with one finger. The touch is gentle, but it’s a firebrand that feeds Steve’s desire. His cock is painfully hard, trapped as it is in his pants.

“Baby?” Sam prompts.

Nobody’s ever called Steve that before. He pulls off Sam’s dick and sits up on his knees. Sam doesn’t look embarrassed or pitying. His warm brown eyes are on Steve, with Steve, the same as they are in any firefight. Steve trusts him completely.

“Yeah,” he says. The word is carried by a breathless rush; Steve couldn’t stop it even if he wanted to. “Yeah, I like that.”

“Good,” says Sam. His eyes drop, tracing the hard lines of Steve’s body. Steve straightens his shoulders, striving for Sam’s approval, to be found worthy in his eyes, and when Sam smiles it feels like victory.

“Then let’s get you out of those jeans,” says Sam, “because that looks painful.”

Steve grins at him, leaning back enough for Sam to get his hands on him, pull his pants down to his thighs. He gets the feeling that Sam wants more than that, so he takes both their shirts off, but that’s the extent of his patience, and he lets himself fall forward a moment later, crushing Sam’s mouth in a kiss as their cocks grind together, skin on skin.

Sam’s hands land on Steve’s bare ass. They’re big and warm, rough with callouses. Steve hears himself make a sound, low in his throat, as Sam starts to knead, his fingers finding tense spots in his muscles that Steve didn’t even know he had, releasing a wave of relaxation and pleasure like Steve’s never known. He feels something within him opening, a key fitting into a lock. He feels good, Sam’s making him feel good and there’s no shame. He likes this.

Then Sam shifts, and his cock presses wetly against Steve’s abdomen, a hot reminder that Sam likes this, too. Steve works a hand between them, impatient to make Sam feel as good as he does.

He raises himself up just enough to get some wiggle room, not enough to escape Sam’s grasp. It’s hard to pull away from Sam’s wonderful mouth, but Steve does it, licking back to Sam’s ear and sucking the lobe into his mouth while he rubs his palm against the wet tip of Sam’s cock.

“Jesus,” Sam says reverently, his eyes closing even as he twitches with the touch.

Steve smirks and doesn’t reply. He widens his stance, one knee on either side of Sam’s thighs, his erection bobbing between them, and goes back to Sam’s mouth, kissing him deep and filthy while stroking him hard and slow.

Then Sam’s grip on his ass tightens, his fingers closing sharp and sudden in what is definitely a pinch. The fleeting pain brings Steve’s arousal rushing back to the forefront, and Steve can’t wait, he can’t last, he needs to get a hand on his cock right this second.

He comes, fast and sudden, the feeling crashing through him like a rolling summer storm. He opens his eyes once it’s passed, and Sam is smiling.

“You good?” he murmurs.

His hands are still moving on Steve’s ass, setting off tiny aftershocks that tingle through him. Steve answers his question with a kiss — many kisses, actually, as Steve moves down his body to get his mouth back on Sam’s cock, licking his own mess away. Sam arches his back, and Steve sucks him in, using his come-covered hand to grip the root, stroking in that same slow pattern that Sam seemed to like earlier.

Sam’s hands pull him closer, his hips fucking up just a little. He’s desperate and close now, so Steve gives him everything he can, his head bowed like he’s praying. Sam shoves his shoulder — a warning that Steve ignores — and a moment later he’s got Sam’s come in his mouth, salty and hot.

He swallows, nursing Sam through it, raising one hand to brush his nipple experimentally. Sam hisses and laughs unexpectedly. The sound is warm and familiar, and Steve pushes himself up to kiss him for it.

“That was...” Sam begins when they part, his fingers trailing heat along Steve’s cheeks. “Something.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees.

He doesn’t know what else to say, so he settles at Sam’s side, giving him a little space, wondering if Sam will want to hold him, sleep in the same bed for the first time. Steve would like that, but he isn’t sure if that’s okay. He’s never done this before; Walt would hold him tight for a few minutes before leaving, but that was when Steve was a lot smaller than he is now. Maybe big guys like Sam — and Steve, now — don’t cuddle.

Sam resolves this by closing the gap between them, pressing the left side of his body fully into Steve’s, resting his head on Steve’s shoulder. Steve raises his arm, wraps it around Sam’s shoulder cautiously, and Sam sighs into it, smiling with his eyes closed.

It’s a relief, but it’s more than that — a sort of quiet joy that infuses him, and he thinks maybe he dozes in that state for a few minutes because when he opens his eyes again he’s rolled over, and Sam’s face is only inches away. He’s still smiling.

Steve smiles back, seeing the relief echoed in Sam’s face and realizing that Sam is just as cautious about this as he is; it may not be the first time in this century for him, but it’s their first time together, and that’s still pretty significant. Steve kisses him, intending for it to be chaste, but now that he knows his way around it, Sam’s mouth is irresistible to him, pulling him in until they’re pressed together again, Sam’s spent dick wet and cool against Steve’s thigh while Steve’s is almost hard again.

Sam pulls back, though, and his hand slips around Steve to land squarely on his ass. “So,” Sam says. “You really like that, huh.”

“I— yes,” Steve manages after a moment. He’s getting embarrassed again, but he can’t deny it. Sam saw everything already, after all.

Sam hums thoughtfully and his hand starts moving, kneading again. Steve tenses up for a second, but then he lets the relaxation seep through him.

The longer Sam touches him, the more easy he feels, and within a few minutes he finds himself talking. He tells Sam about Walt, about how sensitive his ass has been since the serum, about jerking off in the Commandos’ camp and how he was sure Dugan knew.

He stops halfway through describing his fantasy about Peggy's fingernails. “Sorry, it’s stupid,” he concludes, his brain catching up to his mouth at last. His face is burning again. “You don’t want to hear this.”

“It’s not stupid,” Sam tells him. “And yes, I do.”

It’s not that simple, it can’t be, but Sam kisses him like it is, and his fingers move exactly the way Steve needs them to, and soon he’s leaning in again, hard again and wanting — wanting everything. Wanting  _Sam,_  more than he thought was possible. 

“I got you,” Sam murmurs against Steve’s mouth. “Come here, I got you.”

He nudges, and Steve moves without thinking, too fast to be embarrassed about it, until he’s hovering over Sam’s half-hard cock, both of Sam’s hands on his ass. Sam squeezes, hard.

“It isn’t stupid,” he reiterates. “God, you give me an hour, and I’ll prove to you how stupid it isn’t.”

Steve exhales a shaky breath, tries to focus. “I can wait.”

“No, you can’t,” Sam says firmly.

His tone — commanding and certain — sends a jolt through Steve, lighting him up all over. He writhes in Sam’s hands, his cock bouncing as his hips jerk forward, driving into nothing. 

“Get your hands on yourself, baby, mine are kinda busy right now,” Sam murmurs, and he pinches Steve’s ass again to prove it.

Steve moans and closes his eyes because the lingering bits of embarrassment tell him he can’t look at Sam while he does this, while he rolls his head back and grasps his cock. He uses one hand to stroke, the other to rub at the head, falling by long habit into a familiar rhythm.

“That’s it,” Sam breathes. “God, look at you go.”

Steve opens his eyes a slit and checks — Sam’s skin glistens with a fine sheen of sweat, his brown eyes all black, all pupil. His pink tongue darts out, skates over his kiss-swollen lips. He’s so beautiful Steve can’t take it.

“Next time,” Sam promises, pinching and rubbing, kneading and squeezing. Steve bites his bottom lip and whimpers— he’s so close— “Next time I’ll fuck you like this.”

“Oh, God,  _Sam_ —”  

Steve comes in a mess of sensation, his fist hot and dripping, Sam’s hands tight on his ass, grounding him as his world shakes apart.

When the pieces come back together, he sags forward, bracing himself with one sticky hand on the bedsheet, sparing half a thought for the poor housekeeper who’s going to have to clean up after them. Sam arches up under him, and Steve kisses him until the post-coital exhaustion catches up with him, and his lips start feeling sluggish. His arm bends, almost against his will, and he drops onto Sam’s chest.

“You’re gonna get stuck there,” Sam tells him, a laugh in his voice.

“No place I’d rather be,” Steve murmurs back.

There’s more he should say — so much more — but it feels like coming home to be sprawled in this crappy motel bed with him, and his eyes are heavy, closing fast. Sam’s rubbing his back now and sleep is tugging at him.

 _It’ll keep,_  he decides, and he must say the words out loud because Sam kisses his hair and says, “Yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my SamSteve obsession on [Tumblr](http://mrsdawnaway.tumblr.com).


End file.
